


A Dangerous and Daring Quest

by SanSanFanFan



Series: The Tea Party [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Now kiss, Pretty dolls, Sequel, The Tea Party, lemoncakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 22:54:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2790707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SanSanFanFan/pseuds/SanSanFanFan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa receives another invitation to tea from Tommen.... where the Hound will be joining them again.</p><p>Sequel to The Tea Party.</p><p>Written for Kitamere for her birthday.  Also mentions the fantastic irl SanSan dollmaker, Threehills, so kind of a gift for her too :D</p><p>WARNING: Extreme fluff, fanservice and sweetness!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dangerous and Daring Quest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kitamere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitamere/gifts), [ThreeHills](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeHills/gifts).



The second invitation was just as elegant as the first.  But this time when Sansa held it in front of the candle by her bed side, the firelight glinting off of the gold edge, she felt a curious excitement in her stomach instead of the bemusement the first had brought her.  She giggled at the thought that _she_ , Lady Sansa Stark, was excited by an invitation to a _tea party_! There would be sugary cake, and fancy dolls, and Tommen’s kittens… silly little things, silly little pleasures she thought she had long ago put away when she’d made the long trip South months back. Silly little things in a strange city where only dark things happened to her.  The peal of girly laughter surprised her.  When was the last time she had laughed in this wretched place? But the excitement stayed, twirling in her stomach as she thought of sitting down to another tea party with his highness, and _him_.

The day came round so slowly, and Sansa had plenty of time to prepare.  Time to think about what dress to wear.  Tommen had commented on how she always looked so pretty before.  Even _he_ had said the same.  But this time… this time she needed to be even _prettier_!

Ribbons twisted in the braids of her hair.  Her finest light purple dress of samite over petticoats of whispering silk.  And just a touch of rouge on her cheeks and lips!

She swished down the corridor towards Tommen’s chambers with a smile on those slightly redder lips.  She held the invitation again, but this time not as a talisman to ward of his sharp inquisitions if he came across her in the halls, but as a glimmering piece of her happiness.  She knocked politely at Tommen’s door, and her smile broadened as he opened it, gracefully bowing to gesture her in.

“My lady!”

She swept in, her eyes taking in arrangement of cloth and wood dolls around the small table, the steaming tea pot, and the cakes laid out for them already.

“You just missed Marissa, I’m afraid Lady Sansa.  She did ask after your health.”

“Please do tell her that I am very well… oh…” She could not keep the disappointment from her voice.

“Oh yes.  I am very sorry about that.” Tommen looked genuinely upset, wringing his hands as she took her seat and he his. “The kitchens said that they were all out of lemons!”

There were no lemoncakes!

Sansa smiled at the concerned boy prince.  “It really is no matter!”

“I could ask Marissa to send to the city for some.  I really should have done! I’m so stupid!”

“No! No you are not!”

Tommen’s bottom lip was quivering and Sansa would _not_ have it.  The poor boy!

“These almond cakes look lovely! And what’s this?  Honey and spice bread?! Just so sweet and tasty!”

Tommen smiled, sniffing slightly. “I am so glad you are pleased Lady Sansa.  And look, I have something to show you-”

He was just reaching for a brown parchment package all tied up with coarse string, extracting a kitten who’d been catching its claws in it, when suddenly the door was thrown open and then slammed shut, the Hound charging through, his long sword at his waist, another across his back.

“Ah, Ser Hound! I thought you might not be joining us!”

“Your bloody brother had me… occupied.” He held up his hands as Tommen started to speak. “I know, I know, your mother doesn’t want me cursing in front of you!” He growled out the words, but threw off his dirty cloak, laid down his swords and scabbards and took his place at the small table, ignoring the kitten that leapt immediately into his lap to claw at his worn leather trousers.  Sansa straightened her back and gave him a warm smile.

“Ser Hound, a very good afternoon-”

“Oh don’t you start too, little bird.” He poured himself a generous amount of tea into his large earthenware cup, before pouring out a smaller measure for each of them. But he was already slurping it, before Sansa and Tommen could raise their fine bone china ones to their own lips.  Sansa noticed with surprise then that the Hound’s knuckles where bloodied and bruised.  But she thought better of mentioning it.  Perhaps it would be uncouth to mention such things at a tea party with a prince!

“Eh? What’s this?  No lemoncakes?!” he growled, his rasping voice sounding genuinely bothered.  Sansa had not realised that the Hound was at all keen on them! At the last tea party he had not touched a single cake! She had thought that he did not care for sweet things.

“I’m afraid that the kitchens were all out of lemons.  I should have sent for cakes from the city.  There’s a rather good cake shop on the Street of Flour… I’m so sorry!”

Sansa glared at the Hound. “It really doesn’t matter, your highness. Now what was it you were going to show me?”

“Oh yes! I had something made!” he passed her the package. “Another little friend for our tea parties!” He smiled at her, and she realised with a feeling of sadness that he must mean another doll to come and sit with them.  He had no friends.  But the other dolls were Myrcella’s, and this one would be Tommen’s.  She wondered what King Robert would have made of that! Or what horrible thing the Hound was going to say to the poor lonely boy!

She carefully unwrapped the doll, and then gasped as she saw it properly. It was… it was… _her_!  The soft red hair, the style of dress, even the two small eyes with their charming eyelashes on the cloth of its face were hers.  It was a perfectly made cloth and silk doll, the work of a very superior seamstress.  She smiled up at Tommen.

“She’s lovely!”

“It’s you! Do you see!”

“Yes, your highness. I am very flattered!”

The Hound was quiet, looking at the two of them, the three of them, with dark unreadable eyes. 

“Who made her?!” asked Sansa.

“There’s a woman on the Street of Silks.  Her name is Threa Hill.  And I think she’s done a wonderful job of capturing you, Sansa!”

“Hill, eh?” said the Hound as he looked down at Sansa and the doll. “A bast-”

Of course, Sandor was from the Westerlands, Lannister lands, where bastards where named Hill. Sansa cut him off quickly.  There was no need to mention that and have Tommen asking questions about bastards… and other things he was much too young to know about! The boy still played with dolls for goodness sake!

“She has such a lovely face! Don’t you think?” She offered the doll to Sandor, surprising him with her and stopping him from saying more about ‘Hills’.

The cloth doll looked even smaller in the Hound’s immense hands.  He turned her this way and that, and Sansa was finding it very difficult not to laugh at the strangeness of the terrifying Hound looking as though he was playing with a _doll!_

“I thought I might send word that I would like a knight too, since I’ve seen how good a job she’s done.  I think she needs a knight, don’t you Sansa? Someone to protect her, and to rescue her?”

The Hound laughed.  “That’s not what knights are for-”

“Of course they are!” said Sansa firmly.  “They look after the weak, and defend those who can’t defend themselves.  And they serve their prince-”

“Or their king-” he snapped at her, drinking his tea again in the face of her glare.

“And they go on dangerous and daring quests! They kill dragons, and they bring back treasure for their lieges! Maester Hagall taught me how to spell that word the other day.  ‘L-I-E-G-E’!”

“It’s a very good word, Tommen.” said Sansa warmly. “Yes, knights do all of those things.  They are brave and strong, and just.”

Sandor just huffed, and refilled his great earthenware mug.  Then he smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant smile.

“The little doll needs her king surely? Lady Sansa’s betrothed to your brother, after all.” said the Hound darkly.

Sansa looked down at her hands, looking down at where they started to twist into each other.  And Tommen stuttered.

“I.. I… I don’t want a Joffrey doll.  I don’t want Joffrey here!”

“That was mean.” Hissed Sansa at the Hound under her breath, and for a moment she thought she saw surprise in his eyes.

“Ignore me, boy.  You have a knight made if that’s what you want… your highness.”  She watched him look down at the doll, still so tiny in his big warrior’s hands.  “Perhaps its time for the Lady Sansa to return to her ca- her rooms.”

“But no one’s touched the cakes, yet!”

“Perhaps next time, your highness.” said Sansa smiling, and then she stood to curtsey deeply to him. “I would be very happy to return another day.”

As she dipped low she felt the Hound’s eyes on her, but she just watched Tommen’s elegant bow to her.  He was sweet and young, and he needed… her help.  And being needed made her feel strong.  Stronger than she’d felt within these walls since her father had been taken.  The Hound had better learn not only not to swear in front of the poor lonely boy, but also not to tease him in front of her!

She went with him though, followed him back through empty corridors to her ‘cage’ after he had belted his swords back on and re-cloaked himself.  She knew that was the word he had started to say before.  He was right.  But she didn’t feel defeated by that knowledge at this moment. 

“Good night, little bird.”

“Good night, Ser Hound.” She smiled at him, enjoying using Tommen’s nickname for him.

He growled, muttering and cursing under his breath.  But then he was gone, a hand on the hilt of the sword at his waist as the shadows covered him again.

***

Tommen looked at the closed door and sighed.  He’d hoped that they might stay a _little_ longer. They both seemed so lonely!

He looked around at the other little ladies and lords waiting for their tea at the tiny table, his little court.  But wait? Where was the newest guest? Where was his Lady Sansa?!

He sat down and poured himself some more tea before picking up an almond cake to eat in two big bites.  Perhaps it was for the best.  She might not have been all that happy in the castle.  Perhaps a wandering knight found her and rescued her…  Tommen smiled at that thought, and turned to the fair haired doll nearest him.

“More tea?”

***

It was a week later that Sansa heard the knock on her door.  She put her sewing aside and moved quickly to answer it, hoping it was another purple ink invitation from Tommen, calling her to another tea party.  But it was the Hound.

For a moment she was too surprised to say anything.  And then he pushed a woven basket into her hands.

“Here.  Take them!”

She looked at the basket, pulling back a simple cotton piece of material to reveal seven, perfect, golden yellow lemoncakes, the icing freshly made.  The delicious smell wafted out and she smiled.

“Did Tommen ask you to-”

“Stop your chirping.  You wanted lemoncakes.  I got you lemoncakes.”

“Thank you, that was very kind!” She was surprised, but not by the scowl that returned her comment.  She countered it with a warm smile, perhaps the best weapon she could wield against him, she thought. Her only weapon.

“One more thing, little bird.”

“Yes?”

He leant forward, and for just a tiny moment, a shadow of a moment really, she thought that he was leaning in for a kiss.  She closed her eyes.

“Don’t eat all of them at once. You’ll be sick.” His voice rasped in her ear.  And then he was gone.

She sighed, and went back to the high backed chair by the fireplace. Where the light was the best.  Where she could make her amendments to the dolls she had ordered from the woman in the Street of Silk.  Well, to one of them at least.

She had nearly finished.  Unpicking the seam of his head had been simple. Finding the right reddish, pinkish cloths to make into a new patchwork for the side of his face had been trickier, but on the whole she was happy with her handicraft. 

She picked up the knight with the burnt face, and the little Sansa doll Threa Hill had made for her, and put their faces together.

“Now kiss.”


End file.
